


Hope Built From Scratch

by frozensea



Category: Alien Series
Genre: Angst, Dystopia, F/M, Family Feels, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozensea/pseuds/frozensea
Summary: Ironically, once upon a time, she'd enjoyed zombie movies. But that had been before the horror had become real and she'd had to fend off co-workers and friends who were trying to eat her brains.
Relationships: Dwayne Hicks & Ellen Ripley & Rebecca "Newt" Jorden, Dwayne Hicks/Ellen Ripley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20
Collections: Alternate Universe Exchange 2020





	Hope Built From Scratch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jungle_ride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungle_ride/gifts).



Ripley checked the charges in her pulse rifle before she stepped over the zombie's rotting carcass. The streets were silent now, but the suckers had a bad habit of sneaking up on one.  
  
Ironically, once upon a time, she'd enjoyed zombie movies. But that had been before the horror had become real and she'd had to fend off co-workers and friends who were trying to eat her brains.  
  
As it turned out, one of the creepiest differences between fiction and reality was also one that made them more dangerous. On the screen, you heard them coming. In real life, zombies didn't breathe. They didn't moan or groan or wheeze or were courteous enough to give any other indication of their presence. Instead, they were silent, waiting unexpectedly around corners, hovering aimlessly behind closed doors, shuffling down the streets, their dragging footfalls often too soft to hear until it was too late.  
  
Which was why Ripley was relieved when she heard the labored breathing from underneath the car. Where there was breath, there was life, and thus her only concern as she went to her knees was to determine whether or not that life was worth saving or required another bullet to the head. The past year had left her with no illusions about saving those who were already lost. Once someone had been bitten, killing them was an act of mercy.  
  
She hoped that her conviction would not be tested when a pair of wide, blue eyes looked at her from out of a child's face.  
  
“Hello there,” she said with what she hoped was gentleness. Her voice was rough from lack of use. She hadn't really had much occasion to talk since she's struck out on her own.  
  
The girl watched her warily. She was clutching a gun in one hand and the grimy head of a doll in the other.  
  
“You can come out, now. There are no more bad guys around.”  
  
“There will be more,” the girl said with the certainty of one who had seen far too much horror in her young life.  
  
Ripley nodded. “Which is why we need to get out of here.”  
  
“Hicks told me to wait for him, but I heard them coming and got scared.”  
  
Ripley looked around, making sure that they were still alone. “Who is Hicks?”  
  
“He's a Marine. He saved me after...” she bit her lip and looked away clutching the doll's head closer to her chest.  
  
Ripley's heart constricted. She'd lost her own daughter to the contagion that had spread around the globe like wildfire. It wasn't hard to imagine what had happened to the girl's parents.  
  
“My name is Ripley. Do you want to tell me yours?”  
  
“Rebecca,” she said hesitantly. “But everyone calls me Newt.”  
  
Ripley smiled and offered her hand. “Well then, Newt. Why don't we go and look for Hicks?”  
  
Newt eyed her hand. There was no trust in her eyes. Ripley was sharply reminded why she'd left the compound of which she'd thought as refuge once. She wondered if the Weyland-Yutani company's influence reached this far south or if the girl had run into more than one opportunistic and callous individual who had shown her the darkest parts of humanity. The apocalypse brought out the worst in some people and the best in only a few.  
  
Apart from showing kindness, there wasn't much Ripley could do to reassure Newt that she was no threat to her.  
  
“I'll wait over here,” she said and pointed to the curb where a few steps led up to the terraced entrance of an office building. The glass doors and some of the floor-to-ceiling windows were broken and the water in the ornamental fountain in front of them had turned murky and brown with algae. She didn't have much hope of finding anything useful in the lobby, but the elevation gave her better sightlines down the street.  
  
She heard Newt shift as she climbed the steps and smiled. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the girl rob out from under the car, her hand never letting go of either gun or doll. Her dirt-streaked hair hung limb around her shoulders as she straightened and looked up at Ripley with an air of defiance.  
  
 _You are one brave little girl_ , Ripley thought. She quickly looked away. Her daughter had been brave, too, but it hadn't saved her life.

* * *

  
  
Ripley rolled over into the solid warmth of Hick's body. She nuzzled against his back, allowing herself a few seconds to luxuriate in the safety and comfort of his presence before she had to get up.  
  
She could hear birds chirping in the canopy above her. Newt was already up, if the quiet cursing and splashing of water was anything to go by.  
  
Ripley sighed. While the cold river water had been a welcome refreshment during the summer, fall was fading fast, and they still had plenty of work to do if they wanted to get their home ready for the winter.  
  
Beside her, Hicks stirred and looped an arm around her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Morning, sleepyhead.”  
  
She swatted him lightly and smiled when it earned her an exaggerated groan.  
  
“I was awake long before you were.”  
  
“If that were true, I would have woken up alone. You're not really into lazy Sunday mornings.”  
  
“Says the guy who's usually up at the crack of dawn.”  
  
His arm tightened subtly around her. “Dawn's coming later every day now.”  
  
Ripley raised her head and rested her chin on his chest so she could meet his eyes. “I know. You think we'll finish with the insulation this week?”  
  
He gave her a crooked smile. “Baring unwelcome visitors.”  
  
Unwelcome visitors were rare this deep in the woods. But just because they hadn't come across any zombies in almost a month didn't mean that they could let down their guard.  
  
Ripley reached up and scratched her fingers through the stubble on his chin. “We better get started then.” She kissed him, her lips lingering for a long moment before she pushed herself off him with visible regret. “I'll get more water from the river, if you get the fire started.”  
  
Hicks stretched, grinning up at her when he caught her gaze rove over the lean muscles of his middle when his shirt rode up. “Yes, ma'am.”

* * *

  
  
Someone with military training should know better than to make this much noise.  
  
Ripley pressed a finger to her lips to stop Newt from calling out and giving their position away.  
  
They picked their way across a low, crumbled wall into an empty parking lot. The grocery store where, according to Newt, Hicks had gone to forage for food lay across from them. The tattered remains of a striped yellow awning fluttered in the summer breeze above the entrance.  
  
A dozen dead zombies lay scattered across the pavement. Ripley assessed the corpses as she and Newt passed them, reluctantly impressed with the efficiency with which they'd been dispatched. Even if Hicks made more noise than a bull in a china store, he was evidently a good shot. A useful trait given their current situation.  
  
Her irritation was also banked by the obvious note of distress in his voice as he shouted Newt's name. She couldn't really blame him. She'd reacted much the same way when her daughter had been taken away by the ambulance and half a dozen men in hazmat suits. Only in her case, there hadn't been a happy ending.  
  
They edged around the corner to the cluster of dumpsters where Newt had been hiding. More zombies littered the ground, all of them still and, so Ripley hoped, finally at peace. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen this many in one area. In the beginning, the cities had been overrun, making it nearly impossible to avoid them, but as the months passed those who hadn't been killed by survivors, had cannibalized each other as food became scarce. Unsurprisingly, zombie brains couldn't sustain another zombie, and so their numbers had gone down as time went by.  
  
The presence of this many zombies meant that a large group of human survivors must be close by, which was not necessarily good news. She'd spent months living in the deceptive safety of the fortified Weyland-Yutani compound until she'd found out about their dangerous and grotesque experiments with the contagion that had turned the world into a graveyard. Knowing that she'd come across information that she shouldn't have seen, she'd left before they could come after her.  
  
But she wasn't safe. Not yet. She hadn't put enough distance between the far-reaching arms of the company and herself, and a new sense of caution filled her as she and Newt continued past the dumpsters.  
  
She didn't know if Hicks worked for them. Before the apocalypse, Weyland-Yutani had been neck-deep in defense contracts, and the colony's security forces consisted mainly of military personnel. It was possible that Hicks was part of the scavenging parties that went out to gather supplies, or even worse, that he'd been sent to bring her back. Come to think of it, she wouldn't put it past that slimy little weasel Burke, who ran the compound, to use Newt as bait to rope her into a false sense of security.  
  
It was too late to ask now. As they rounded another corner into the alley between two warehouses, a man wearing camouflage gear whirled around sighting along the barrel of his rifle.  
  
“Hicks.”  
  
Newt abandoned her cover behind Ripley's body and ran towards him. Ripley stayed where she was, pulse rifle in hand, though pointed at the ground.  
  
A wistful feeling settled in her chest when Hicks immediately lowered his gun and scooped Newt into his arms when she jumped at him. The look of relief on his face was genuine, and Ripley dismissed the idea of the two of them setting a trap for her. If she was any judge of character, this guy would never put Newt in danger or use her as bait.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked as he held Newt to him while checking her arms and neck for bite wounds. “You nearly gave me a heart attack when I couldn't find you.”  
  
Newt buried her face in his neck. “There were so many of them. I could hear them walking past my dumpster, and I couldn't stay. I just couldn't. So I climbed out and ran. I'm sorry.”  
  
“It's okay.” Hicks closed his eyes and held her more tightly. “It's okay, Newt. I'm just glad you're alright.”  
  
His eyes finally found Ripley again, though he continued to address Newt. “Who's your new friend?”  
  
“Her name is Ripley. Two zombies saw me run away. She killed them before they caught me.” Newt beamed at her.  
  
Hicks gently took the gun out of Newt's hand and stashed it in his holster before he set her back on the ground.  
  
“Thank you,” he said as he approached her. He offered his hand in the same careful way she had done to Newt, and Ripley wondered if she really looked as ready to bolt as the girl had done curling up beneath the car. “Newt was lucky that you were there. We owe you.”  
  
The first impression that struck her up close was that he had kind eyes. There was also a hint of suspicion in his voice, which had her cocking her head in curiosity. Now that she was certain that he was no threat to her, she wondered why he was out here alone with a ten year old girl.  
  
“You don't owe me,” she said as she clasped his hand for a brisk shake. “I did what everyone would have done.”  
  
His chuckle was without humor. “You're obviously not from around here, are you?”  
  
“No, I'm from... up north.” There. That was close enough to the truth without giving anything away.  
  
But her vague answer only seemed to make Hicks more suspicious. He shifted slightly, subtly moving in front of Newt. “Up north, eh? Not many safe places up there, last I heard.”  
  
“That's why I'm on the move. You know any place I could stay for the night?” She'd already spent a night in the city and had hardly gotten any sleep. One of the major drawbacks of traveling alone was that there was no one to keep watch while she slept, and while her original plan had been to leave the city behind and make it to one of the smaller towns surrounding it today, it might not be a bad idea to stay one more night if there was a community close by. That way, she could catch up on both sleep and the latest news.  
  
But Hicks shook his head. “The nearest enclave is about seven miles west of here in one of the suburbs by the river. We stayed there last night. This part of town is deserted.”  
  
Ripley stared at him. “That can't be right. There wouldn't be any zombies here, if they didn't have a food source nearby.”  
  
Hicks shrugged. His manner projected indifference, though Ripley was sure that he knew more than he told her. “Maybe there's another enclave that no one knows about. We're not from around here, either. Just passing through. Heading east. To the coast.” Keeping an eye on her, he walked backward as he spoke and pulled Newt with him to pick up a large backpack that had been resting against one of the walls.  
  
After settling the pack on his shoulders, he gave her a nod. “Anyway. Thanks again for helping Newt. And good luck on your journey.”  
  
Nonplussed, Ripley returned the nod. “You, too.”  
  
“Why can't she come with us?” Newt asked with an uncertain look in her direction.  
  
“We're not going in the same direction, sweetheart.”  
  
“But you said–“  
  
“We have to be on our way if we want to get out of the city before nightfall, Newt.” Hicks held out his hand, gentling the expression on his face. “Come on.”  
  
“Alright.” Newt looked back at her with regret. “Goodbye, Ripley.”  
  
Ripley swallowed and raised her hand. Her wave was halfhearted at best. It really didn't make any sense to join them. They didn't know each other, and Hicks clearly didn't trust her. But somehow, against her better judgment, she felt protective about Newt and didn't want her to leave.  
  
 _Kind eyes_ , she reminded herself as she fought the sudden obstruction in her throat. _He has kind eyes. She'll be safe with him_.

“Goodbye, Newt. Be safe."

* * *

  
  
"Are we going down to the river? I need more reed."  
  
Ripley followed the nimble motions of Newt's fingers as she wove another wicker basket. She had gotten very good at it and had started to change up their shapes and sizes lately. Her hair was still wet from when she'd apparently dunked her head into the water bowl to give it a scrub.  
  
"I think we have enough baskets for the larder by now, but we could start working on lids for some of them."  
  
Truth be told, they had more than enough plastic containers for the food they'd found along the way and could easily get more if needed. The nearest town was small and had been abandoned long ago, but it was less than half a day's walk away. During the summer, they'd been able to set out at first light, forage for what they needed, and had made it back to the treehouse before the sun had set.  
  
With daylight hours getting progressively shorter, those trips would get more dangerous.  
  
In any case, weaving wicker baskets had served the double purpose of creating more storage space and giving Newt something to do while Ripley and Hicks built the first room of the treehouse that they'd continuously expanded with walkways and suspension bridges to the neighboring trees until it felt like more of a home than a make-shift shelter.  
  
"I'm not making a basket. I'm making a dollhouse. Look." Newt sprung to her feet and turned her creation upside down, revealing that one of the basket's sides was missing. The interior had been partitioned into two levels with two sections each.  
  
"I'm going to put furniture in it as soon as I figure out how to do it." She held up a tiny chair she'd fashioned out of twigs and leaves, binding the pieces together with strips of bark. As small as it was, it was still much too big for the dollhouse, but Ripley felt a soft, bittersweet ache spread through her chest as she admired Newt's determination.  
  
She reached out and ran her hand through Newt's hair. "I'm just going to get more water right now, so we can have breakfast, but we can go back together later and cut as much reed as you want. Okay?"  
  
Newt smiled at her and nodded. "Is Hicks up, yet? I want to show him."  
  
She barely waited for Ripley's reply before she ran across the short suspension bridge between the towering redwoods they now called home.  
  
Ripley already had a weapon in the shoulder holster they'd taken off the corpse of a puppeteer, but she nevertheless reached for her pulse rifle before she walked down the curving staircase to the lower tier that served as one of four entrance points to the treehouse. Shouldering her backpack, she released the stepladder and watched the lower part swing towards the ground.  
  
The walk to the river was short, and as she neared the bank, firs and spruces gave way to broadleaved trees. Red and yellow foliage crunched under her heels and a couple of mice scurried over the narrow path in front of her.  
  
Ripley breathed in the crisp air as she stepped out onto the bank. The wide riverbed made the current look deceptively slow as it flowed across fist-sized pebbles washed smooth over centuries. Around her, the craggy peaks of the Rockies glowed red with the light of the rising sun.  
  
She filled the water canisters first while keeping a wary eye on her surroundings. The sky above was clear, promising a warm day, perhaps one of the last they'd get this year. It would be nice to come back with Newt and Hicks in the afternoon and take a bath. She splashed her face with water and rubbed it across the back of her neck.  
  
Three months ago she'd been running for her life. Looking at her peaceful surroundings, that time seemed little more than a fragment of a distant past.  
  
Her hand instinctively wrapped around her daughter's birthstone pendant, which she still wore around her neck. Her grief had grown dull during the past year. It had never occurred to her that she might have a family again, but even though she would always carry Amanda in her heart, there was no denying that Newt and Hicks had also staked a claim on it. She didn't dare imagine where she would be right now, if she hadn't run into them.

She closed her eyes as the first rays of sunlight skimmed across the treetops and warmed her face. She breathed in the tranquility and listened to the gentle sound of the river. The forest had grown silent.  
  
Ripley's eyes snapped open.  
  
The absence of birdsong was never a good sign.  
  
Rising from her crouch, she whirled around and reached for her rifle. A zombie ambled out of the shadows, its red eyes burning with hunger.

* * *

  
Leaving town had been a mistake.  
  
Ripley let her heavy pack sink to the ground and reached up to rub her aching shoulder. She'd hoped to make it to the next settlement before nightfall, but her encounter with Newt and Hicks had delayed her in addition to the heat which had slowed her down as well.  
  
There was no way she'd make it any further today.  
  
Taking a dubious look at the abandoned gas station, she resigned herself to the fact that she'd have to stay here for tonight.  
  
She pushed her pack behind one of the pumps so it wouldn't be immediately visible if someone came by. She hadn't seen anyone on the road since she'd parted ways with Newt and Hicks, but one couldn't be too careful. She hadn't been able to shake the nagging feeling that she was being watched.  
  
Raising her rifle, she cautiously slunk through the gaping hole where the front door used to be.  
  
By the time she'd made sure that the building was indeed deserted, the sun had dipped below the mountain range. In the ensuing twilight, Ripley picked up her pack and used the key she'd found behind the counter to open the restrooms.  
  
She'd chosen it for shelter because the doors were sturdy, one opening into the station's office space, while the other led outside. The windows were too narrow for an adult to squeeze through and too high up for any zombie to climb as their coordination and sense of balance was too compromised by the contagion that had taken over their brains.  
  
To her delight, she'd found two cans of chicken stew beneath an otherwise ransacked shelf. She didn't dare make a fire, but even cold it was the best meal she'd had in a month, and after repacking her backpack three times, she finally managed to fit the second can into it, ensuring that she could stretch her provisions for almost two weeks, if she rationed them carefully.  
  
Stopping here had been worth it after all.  
  
Darkness had fallen by now. If she craned her neck, she could see the stars through the narrow window beneath the ceiling, but she was too tired to pay them any attention. Cradling her pulse rifle to her chest, she fell asleep.  
  
It seemed that only minutes had passed before she jerked awake again, the sound of rifle fire ringing in her ears. The door rattled as someone tried to open it. Their attempt was accompanied by tense curses.  
  
Heart hammering in her throat, she listened to the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground as she scrambled to her feet. A sudden pressure closed up her throat when a loud crash was followed by the shattering of glass next to her feet. Looking up, she saw a dark shadow block out the stars.  
  
"Get in. Quick."  
  
"It's too narrow."  
  
"It's not. You can squeeze through. Come on."  
  
"But _you_ won't fit."  
  
"Don't worry about me. Just get inside. You'll be safe- Fuck."  
  
"Hicks!"  
  
Rapid pulse fire followed, tearing through Ripley's stunned realization that Newt and Hicks were right outside even though they'd told her that they were headed for the coast.  
  
A dark snake of suspicion reared inside her, but Newt's cry of distress spurned her into action. There would be time to ask questions later. Hopefully.  
  
Slinging her rifle across her shoulder, she clambered onto the toilet seat and reached for Newt, who immediately started screaming and thrashing when Ripley touched her leg.  
  
"Newt. Newt, calm down. It's Ripley."  
  
Newt stilled, then shifted until Ripley could just make out the silhouette of her face.  
  
"Ripley. What are you doing here?" She allowed Ripley to pull her through the window. "Can you help us? Hicks is still out there and there are dozens of them."  
  
Ripley quickly helped Newt down to the floor before she dug her fingers into the window frame and pulled herself far enough up to look outside. The sound of pulse fire had been constant, and while it had taken only a few seconds to help Newt, it felt as if minutes had passed.  
  
The front of the gas station flickered with the bright light of Hicks's rifle as he blew the heads off the lumbering army that came down the road.  
  
"Where the hell are they coming from? There are no people around here."  
  
"They followed us," Newt said in a small voice. "They've been hunting us since we ran away."  
  
Half a dozen questions sprang to Ripley's mind. She didn't have time to ask any of them.  
  
"Hicks," she shouted across the pavement. "Hicks, I can open the door for you." It wouldn't solve the problem of the zombie horde, but it would give them breathing space to come up with a plan.  
  
Hicks whirled around at the sound of her voice. He opened his mouth, but whatever he'd been about to say was drowned out by an electric whirring that came from behind the door leading to the gas station's interior.  
  
Newt called out in fear, but Ripley was already on her way down. Three long strides brought her to the door just as it opened to reveal the beam of a flashlight.  
  
She kicked the door hard enough that it smacked into whoever was standing behind it. She assumed, by Newt's fearful reaction, that the intruders were, at best, unknown and she wasn't going to risk Newt's life or her own in the hope that they might be allies.  
  
"Who are you?" she shouted as she braced herself against the door.  
  
There was no answer. Instead, a heavy weight crashed against the door, making her stumble and crash to her knees.  
  
"Get the girl," a rough voice shouted as blue beams of light flickered across the wall. One of the flashlights found Newt who was crouching underneath a sink at the opposite wall.  
  
Ripley didn't think. All she saw were Newt's wide, terrified eyes, and then her rifle was in her hands. A shot punched into her shoulder, making her gasp. Her body twisted, and she instinctively, desperately, fired her rifle. The small room rang with the echo of shots finding their target. A body slumped down next to her just as a flash of heat seared the side of her face.  
  
Newt screamed her name. The white-blue pulse of a rifle went off so close to her face that the restroom was bathed in stark contrasts for a split second before it blinded her and she saw nothing at all. But it was enough. A man in the doorway. A familiar jumpsuit. A gun in one hand. A small tablet screen in the other. Cold eyes. A snarl on his face.  
  
Blindly, Ripley raised her rifle and pulled the trigger.  
  
When she heard an aborted grunt and a dull thud, she kicked against the door, hoping to deter anyone else from rushing through it before she'd gotten to her feet.  
  
Two flashlights rolled across the ground. Ripley blinked as her sight slowly returned. Plastic crunched under her boot when she put herself between Newt and the door. Her breath came in rapid puffs and adrenaline made her hands tremble.  
  
"Newt?"  
  
"I'm here," Newt said in a small voice.  
  
The door didn't move.  
  
After endless seconds, Ripley left her rifle dangling by the shoulder strap, picked up one of the flashlights, and cautiously opened the door. The office beyond it was empty.  
  
She flinched when something warm suddenly brushed against her hand.  
  
It was Newt. She held the second flashlight in her hand and looked up at her with haunted eyes. "Can we help Hicks?"  
  
Fear slithered down Ripley's spine. She hadn't hurt his rifle go off since her own battle had ended.  
  
She reached for Newt's hand only to realize that blood was dripping from her fingers. She winced. Almost as if her brain had waited for a visual cue to process the information sent by her nervous system, she suddenly became aware of a searing pain in her shoulder.  
  
"You got shot," Newt said. There was neither fear nor surprise in her voice, only grim evaluation. "Do you have a medkit? I can patch you up. I'm better at field dressings than Hicks. He said so."  
  
Her gaze darted back to the restroom and the door outside. She was anxious, as if an inner battle raged within her what to do first; help Ripley or look for Hicks. Ripley steeled herself to tell her that Hicks was most likely dead.  
  
Her injured arm hanging uselessly by her side, she followed Newt back into the restroom.  
  
Though she'd barely stepped across the threshold when a strained voice from behind stopped her in her tracks.  
  
"Raise your hands and step aside."  
  
There was no way that she could move her injured arm now that the first rush of adrenalin had worn off. She slowly turned around, letting the beam of her flashlight rove across Hicks who was pointing his gun at her.  
  
Behind her, Newt called his name and rushed forward just as she had done earlier today. But this time, Ripley blocked her.  
  
"No, Newt. Wait."  
  
Hicks was covered in blood and abrasions, which worried her almost more than the fact that he still had his rifle trained at her. It wasn't the first time that she'd seen a survivor so amped up on adrenalin and battle lust that they could no longer tell friend from foe. She'd seen how protective Hicks was of Newt, and it didn't come completely unexpected that he was hyperfocused on making sure she was safe. She could only hope that he would remember that she was no threat to Newt before he shot her.  
  
"Let her pass," he snapped.  
  
"Were you bitten?"  
  
"I am not fucking around. Let her pass."  
  
"Ripley?" Newt sounded confused and worried, but as much as Ripley wanted to reassure her, she didn't dare risk looking away from Hicks.  
  
"I am not going to move unless I'm sure that you're no threat to her," Ripley said tersely. She strove to keep her voice calm, but her fear for Newt and the pain in her shoulder added an edge to it she knew he could hear. "Were you bitten or not?"  
  
Hicks glowered at her. His gun didn't move an inch. "I wasn't."  
  
Ripley gritted her teeth. She was starting to feel light-headed. _Blood loss, probably,_ she thought disappearing, and the knowledge that she wouldn't be able to defend Newt if Hicks was lying sat like a lead weight in her stomach.  
  
"What happened to the zombies?" There had been at least a hundred of them. No way that he'd taken them all out.  
  
Hicks chewed on his answer for a moment, and Ripley cursed every second that passed.

“They're not moving,” he finally said.

“You killed them?” She didn't make any effort to hide her disbelief.

“No. They're just not moving. Stopped attacking all of a sudden. What happened? Your controller fry? Didn't bring a back-up?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I leave Newt alone for ten minutes to search for food and dozens of zombie show up, even though there were no other humans in that place. Then, out of nowhere, you appear just in time to save her. Bit suspicious, but could have been a coincidence. Only here you are again–”

“I told you I was going south.”

“– just when even more of those freaks got us cornered.”

“You're not making any sense.”

Hicks stomped forward, practically shoving his rifle in her face. “You're a goddamn puppeteer, and if you want to stay alive you're going to tell me how to get away from the company. I want to know which roads they're watching and how many people are looking for us.”

“I have no idea– ” she began, but this time it was Newt who interrupted her.

“She's not a puppeteer, Hicks. She shot them. Look. They tried to take me away, and she killed them.”

Stepping beside her, Newt pulled her away from the door, so Hicks could see the two bodies on the ground illuminated by her flashlight. “She's not from that place.”

Hicks stared at the bodies, one of whom was wearing a dark gray jumpsuit with the Weyland-Yutani company logo embroidered on his chest. Then his gaze flitted up to her face, down to Newt, and back to the bodies.

“She saved me,” Newt said imploringly. “And she's bleeding. One of them shot her.”

His gaze followed the beam of Newt's flashlight to the blood dripping from her hand. Ripley tried not to sag against the door frame. A small, dark puddle had formed on the floor.

“Fuck.” Setting his weapon aside, Hicks rubbed the back of his neck while he took hold of her arm. His grasp was surprisingly gentle. “Do you have a medkit?”

“Backpack,” she said quietly.

“Newt?”

“On it.”

“While Newt darted over to the wall where Ripley had stashed her supplies, Hicks helped her back into the office where she sank gratefully into a chair. A rusty spring creaked under her weight, and the sound was uncomfortably loud in the darkness.

“I'm going to have to cut the shirt away,” Hicks told her after a brief inspection of her shoulder.

“Do whatever you have to do,” she said tiredly. “And while you're doing that you're going to tell me what the fuck that was all about.”

He blinked at her with evident surprise at her tone, though she saw his eyes crinkle with relief. “That an order?”

“You better believe it is.”

The barest hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. Newt returned with the medkit and set the contents out on the table with a proficiency belying her age.

“You said you're from up north,” she said as she hopped up onto the table.

“Yes. So?”

“Then you heard of the Weyland-Yutani compound?” Hicks asked, reaching for the scissors.

As it turned out, the unethical experiments Ripley had accidentally witnessed were only the tip of the iceberg as far as Weyland-Yutani was concerned.

“Newt isn't immune to a bite, but she has a higher resistance to them than most of us. If her body isn't overwhelmed by the contagion, her immune system can fight it off. When I was told to get her from the orphanage, I got suspicious. When we're not sent out on bug hunts, whenever zombies threaten the safety of the compound, we handle law enforcement. So, it wasn't uncommon to be asked to track someone down, but I never had to bring in a child before. When I found out what they had planned for her...”

Hicks pressed his lips into a thin line while he stitched up her shoulder.

Newt sat on the table, clutching her doll's head and nervously running her fingers through its long hair. Ripley reached out to squeeze her hand. She felt sick imagining it. She also wanted to go back to the compound and shoot Burke's head off.

“I knew they were experimenting with the contagion on survivors in the compound, but I didn't know they'd found a way to actually control the zombies.” A memory jumped at her. “One of them was holding a tablet.” She pointed back to the bodies.

While Newt took over from Hicks and finished dressing her wound, he went back into the restroom and retrieved the item. When he activated the screen, Ripley saw that it was cracked, and she remembered something crumbling beneath her boot during the fight.

Hicks snorted and turned the device around so she could see it better. “Looks like you stepped on the 'Standby Mode' button.”

Ripley got up, swaying for a moment before Hick's steadying hand found her elbow. Now that her wound was dressed, she wanted to see what Hicks had meant when he'd said that the zombies had stopped moving. She slipped into her jacket, unconcerned that she'd have to pick up a new shirt somewhere along the way, and took hold of the keys to the back door. The sky outside had brightened to twilight.

Hicks followed her and raised his rifle as she put the key in the lock. She pulled the door open and immediately jumped back, gasping.

A zombie stood right in front of her. Motionless and silent, it looked indeed like a puppet, its hollow black eyes staring off into the distance, gray skin stretched over a gaunt face.

Ripley shivered and took another step back. The zombie didn't react. It gave no indication that it was capable of movement or even aware of her presence.

It was the creepiest thing Ripley had ever seen, which given the circumstances, said a lot.

“What are we going to do with them?” she asked.

“Well, I don't want to waste ammunition on them. So I'm probably just going to cut their heads off. Might take a few hours. There are a lot of them.”

Ignoring her instincts and the fact that her skin was crawling with revulsion, Ripley stepped closer to the zombie so she could see behind it. She jerked back as quickly as possible. The parking lot and front of the gas station were indeed packed with zombies, though about half of them were very much permanently dead and lying on the ground.

“Do you think we have that kind of time? If people are looking for you...”

“We'll have to risk it. Any asset I can take away from the company, increases the chances of Newt and I getting away.”

Ripley met his concerned but determined gaze with one of her own. “I'll help you.”

Hicks rubbed the back of his neck again, a gesture she was starting to recognize as an expression of discomfort. “I'm not saying, we can't use the help. But you won't be safe if you stay with us.”

Her smile was without humor. “Where exactly am I going to safe in this fucked-up world?”

Newt grasped her hand. “You'll be able to sleep if she stays with us,” she said practically. “You can take turns keeping watch. And you can protect her while her shoulder heals.”

Hicks huffed a laugh. “You'll have to watch this one,” he told Ripley while he affectionately ruffled Newt's hair. “She'll figure out your weaknesses and use them shamelessly against you until she gets what she wants.”

Ripley looked down at Newt's wide-eyed expression of innocence, a slow and steady warmth spreading through her chest. “I think I can handle that.”

* * *

Her shot rang out across the river like a crack of thunder. A startled flock of birds took flight in the distance, filling the sky with their calls of distress.

The zombie jerked as her pulse charge tore through his skull.

Ripley didn't move. Heart hammering, she kept her eyes on the treeline, scanning it for more invaders.

Had the company finally found them? Would they have to leave their home and head further into the mountains? With winter so close, it would be a dangerous undertaking.

She instinctively aligned her rifle with the body that came hurtling out of the trees, but it was only Hicks, armed to the teeth, his expression frantic.

He skidded to a halt when he saw her, taking in the body on the ground.

“Just the one?” he asked as he turned to observe the forest.

“Hopefully.”

Ripley walked over to the corpse and exchanged her rifle for a pair of plastic gloves and a knife. Crouching down, she turned the zombie's head and dug the point of her blade into the base of his spine.

“There's no control chip,” she said after a moment. “Not a scout then.” The pressure eased inside her chest.

She and Hicks dragged the corpse into the river and let the current take hold of it. As soon as they were back on shore, Hicks pulled her against him and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. “You okay?”

“Yeah. But I want to get back to Newt.”

Even if the absence of a control chip suggested that the zombie had only come across them by chance, she couldn't feel at ease until she saw that Newt was unharmed with her own eyes.

She hurried along the short path to their treehouse, secure in the knowledge that Hicks had her back, and only slowed down when she saw Newt's anxious expression from atop the platform where the stepladder was once more securely fastened.

Once Newt had lowered the ladder, Ripley alighted, and carelessly through her pack with its heavy canisters against the trunk so she could pull Newt into her arms.

“Did they find us?” Newt asked meekly as Hicks jumped onto the platform next to them.

“I doesn't look like it, sweetheart. It was just the one.”

Newt's eyes were huge in her pale face. “But there will be more. There are always more.”

Hicks crouched down next to them and added his arms to Ripley's, cocooning Newt between them. “And we will take care of them as they come along.”

Laying her head against Ripley's shoulder, Newt took Hicks hand. “We protect each other,” she said quietly and it didn't sound like a question, but an unshakable certainty.

Ripley tightened her arms around her. “Yes, we do. Always.”


End file.
